Eleanor moved like a phantom. Sliding beneath a hammer arc, she drove her fingers crackling with Lightning Touch into the strained joint. The electricity did nothing, but the focused physical force, guided by Killing Precision, struck true. There was a sharp pop and a grunt of genuine pain from Barrock. His left arm went momentarily slack, the hammer dipping.
She pressed her advantage… unrelenting, methodical. A flurry of brutal, exacting kicks crashed into his leading leg, each aimed at the knee. His dragon scales flared to defend, holding firm, yet the concussive impact left microfractures spidering through the surface. He was being worn down; the immovable fortress chipped away piece by piece.
Frustration and pain finally broke his disciplined guard. His eyes flared with psionic light… Petrifying Gaze!
